The Aftermath
by Topgallant
Summary: It never was described what happened to Davy Jones and his crew directly after he destroyed his beloved pet in AWE.  Madness ensues.  But of course, what else could you expect?


Davy Jones was upset.

Davy Jones was _very_ upset. To put it eloquently, the day was not going very well, and Jones was handling this fact with acrimonious behavior, resulting in the unjust treatment of his crewmen, where hitherto he had _merely _been exploiting inclusively without discretion, he now violently and aggressively ordered severe, punitive treatment to be dealt out to all like never before. It was a calamitous event.

To put it bluntly- the nasty, flagitious, stringent old creep threw his blooming pipe at crewmembers, cackled nefariously at random intervals, stomped around pointedly, even tookLiar's Dice_ away_, then disappeared for a brief, heavenly moment where the crew thought themselves free from his tyranny for the day.

Then, apparently _still _not satisfied causing mayhem and misery, Jones began pounding out his tortured, tune-deaf soul on the keys of his massive organ. The sound was caterwauling quite loudly, and _no_ one onboard could even hear their thoughts.

It went past anything similar to what would normally be categorized as normal organ behavior. It screeched loud enough to wake the dead…and send them howling, ripping themselves out of the ground and careening wildly off into the distance in search of peace.

His organ was still convinced that it was still playing something reminiscent of music; which it wasn't. It had long since passed even resembling the yowl of tomcats at midnight- it was now something not of this world.

The sound was blaring loudly, permeating even the dankest, darkest cranny on the Flying Dutchman. There was no escape from the horror.

So, that left the men strong enough to continue their labor oozing around the deck without much enthusiasm. They wallowed about unhappily, plodding from one job to the other, and even Jimmylegs was too tired and down-trodden to even find the spirit to shout insults or wave his whip about threateningly.

That was his job, however, and he would be in dire trouble with the Captain if he did not do his duty. Jones was peeved with that bothersome, annoying big-wig, Cutler Beckett, for ordering that the Kraken be killed. The crew all felt the loss, -it was impossible not to- but it was the Captain whose heart was truly torn from his chest.

If that hadn't been done already, of course.

Jimmylegs shuffled after some of the tardier crewmates, his whip trailing uselessly and morosely behind him. "No one never said yer lot can laze about!" he snarled with more luster than he felt.

His half-hearted cry had only elicited a simultaneous moan from the men.

It was still hard to hear their response because of the cacophony of Davy's organ raging behind them.

Maccus was subdued too, and with a groan, he eased himself up from one upright barrel on which he sat himself, and stood next to Jimmylegs, to emphasize the bo'sun's command.

"Get back to work, you scum." He shouted distantly, feeling in a haze.

His words were lost on the crew, who had ceased their work altogether and stood scattered around the deck, gaping.

Crash was the only one present who seemed immune to this, and after a cursory look at his shipmates, turned back to Maccus and Jimmylegs, and shrugged apologetically, as if it was his fault for their drone-like behavior and he felt very, very sorry.

Jimmylegs, who was never fond of Crash, snarled and darted forward, feeling, at least, _some_ energy and inspiration to flog something. _Anything._

Maccus blinked with his three good eyes, and bleakly returned to his barrel-sitting, staring mournfully at an algae-covered portion of the deck.

Crash yelped and dove behind Clanker, whose eye was glazed, and was swaying gently, his mouth open slightly.

However, Jimmylegs was in hot pursuit, now utterly intent on his quarry. He tore after Crash, speeding in his wake like a thing possessed. The bo'sun's whip, noticing its master's excitement, grew lively, and it snaked about threateningly when Jimmylegs snapped it in the air.

Crash's -theoretic- eyes widened in terror when he glanced behind himself, and he didn't fail to notice the hellish fury that lit Jimmylegs's features with a malevolent glow. He was so overcome with fear that he _did_ fail to notice the innocent hermit crab scuttling before him, intent to ignore and be ignored by the giant, clumsy entity that was Crash.

He, true to his name, tripped on the hermit crab, and fell heavily to the floor. He blunderingly attempted to scramble to his feet, but Jimmylegs threw himself on top of Crash, pinioning him to the deck.

By this point, the crewmember was hysterical, babbling something about "Jimmyleg's wrath yet again," yet paralyzed beneath his weight.

"Now I'm going ter get off of you now, and ye'd better not try ter escape me, lest I dunk you in a bucket of chum, an' feed you ter Maccus!" Jimmylegs hissed in his ear.

"Aye, s-s-sir! Aye!" Crash nodded frantically in quick, jagged, panicked movements. His natural stutter was only more pronounced and worsened by his fear.

Jimmylegs sprang to his feet, and before his hapless victim had any time to react, he was wrenched roughly up, and dragged forcefully to the mast, where Maccus, now watching the event drearily, followed.

Maccus shoved Crash against the mast, and held him there by his neck with as little effort as he might have used to bat away a fly

"Oh, get it done with quickly, Bo'sun." he said wearily. Jimmylegs replied with a throaty growl, his eyes never even flitting away from the handle of his whip, at which he was gazing on affectionately, caressing it gently.

Crash, now terrified, pleaded, "S-sir, p-p-please d-don't do this! It's the C-c-captain that's been abusing us the whole d-day! Not-t me!"

Maccus rolled the eye at the front of his face. "He knows that of course, you simpering fool. We all do."

The 'all', excluding the trio, were the men that stood open-mouthed and drooling, and Jones, who was still playing the organ, the amplitude of which had quieted only slightly.

"Oh." Crash said softly.

Jimmylegs had now raised his hand and drew it back, as if it was a spring beginning to build tension. The air lay heavy and tense, like a layer of thick fog.

"Wait!" Crash interjected just as the cat-o-nine-tails was about to descend. He couldn't see his impeccable timing and appreciate it, however, because his back was facing the bo'sun.

"M-m-m-maybe, s-sir, m-maybe inst-t-tead of f-flogging me, maybe I c-c-could give you a h-hug?" he asked almost too hopefully. Jimmylegs drew back as if stung, and Maccus's human eye narrowed.

"What are you playing at, boy?" he asked harshly, his grip on Crash's throat tightening. "What are you trying to forestall? The Bos'un has flogged you countless times before! Don't be a coward." He said scornfully.

Jimmylegs was silent, observing Crash shrewdly. "Why _do_ ye ask?"

Crash, still facing the mast, struggled for an answer.

"B-b-because s-sir, I-"

"Ye don't have a reason!" Jimmylegs spat. There was a moment of silence. Then, as is grudgingly accepting an unwanted, yet truthful comment, he said quietly, "Alrigh', but do it with haste!"

Maccus was clearly surprised by this action, but he said nothing and relinquished his hold on Crash's throat. The poor man now stared, stricken, at Jimmylegs, obviously not believing for an instant that his desperate offer would even be considered.

It was debatable whether or not, at that moment, he preferred getting flogged…or giving Jimmylegs a hug.

The outcome of that answer was never reached, however, as the organ stopped blaring suddenly, and with a thud, the door to the Captain's cabin was slammed open. Davy Jones strode out, his eyes blazing.

"What is happening-uh?" he asked, shaking. He tossed his head to the side slightly, and his tentacles swung helplessly with the motion. They squirmed and slithered as if they longed to jump off his face and hide from his wrath.

Which, naturally, they couldn't.

Maccus, with his position as first mate, was the one addressed. He stiffened respectfully, military style, and said crisply, "Just keeping order, sir."

He was, in all honesty, worried about Jones's possible reaction to seeing the remainder of his crew standing around like buffoons. However, no sudden burst of passion came.

Instead, Jones answered brusquely, "So be it. Continue." He gave Crash a withering glare and then vanished once again into his cabin, but thankfully, no organ music was emitted from within.

Jimmylegs and Crash, -who was forgotten at the moment- in equal shock, spun around and saw the crewmen looking dazed but active, murmuring to one another, "Bloody music froze me on the spot."

"It's witchcraft, says I. Witchcraft!"

"Blazes, I 'ope that don't never 'appen again!"

Crash used this moment to his advantage, slipping away into the crowd, blessed with anonymity within the confines of the mass that had surged together, exchanging comments on what may have kept them in such a state.

All evidence pointed to Jones's awful playing.

Maccus and Jimmylegs, now regaining their composure, worked together to disperse the group, yelling with renewed vigor to make up for lost time.

When finished, the two looked for Crash, who still had not been adequately punished. By this point, the 'hug deal' was completely obsolete, as was the original reason why Jimmylegs wanted to flog him.

Now it was even _more_ of a personal vendetta.

Crash was attempting to hide behind an inadequately sized barrel. The very same barrel, which, incidentally, was the one on which Maccus was originally sitting on. Yet it had no relevance to the current situation, and therefore was still useless, because it wasn't successful at shielding Crash from the two very irritated men.

"Get up, you wretch." Maccus said disdainfully, and rather loudly.

Despite being behind on their duties because of their trance, the hands all slowed their progress to see what was happening with Maccus, Jimmylegs and Crash.

The latter obeyed hesitantly, knees shaking.

"Y-yes s-sir?" he questioned innocently, which only incensed the duo more.

"Shut yer trap an' let me do me work in peace!" Jimmylegs snapped.

As before, he drew his arm back to deliver the bite of his whip.

Then a completely unexplainable and maddening coincidence happened- Crash, a fool as always, lost his balance and plummeted forward, grabbing the tail end of the cat, clutching it tightly within his hand.

Maccus, trained to have fast reflexes during his years as a Navy officer, saw this and leaped forward to apprehend Crash, whom he thought was trying to escape his chastisement.

However, Crash jumped to his feet, still holding the end of the whip, and his hand was raised in the air to fend off attack, even though he happened to be grasping something already. Jimmylegs, not quick enough to react, still swept his hand down with such force that Crash dropped his hand too, and the cat swung in low.

Maccus, who was now in a perilous position, had to jump to avoid being tripped by the whip.

The three of them were almost stuck in a loop then, and they repeated the move. The whip arched down and Maccus hopped to elude it. Finally, regaining control of their bodies, they all took a quiet moment to stare at themselves, stare at each other, stare at the whip, stare blankly in confusion…

Their shipmates were staring too, awed by the accidental display.

A silent message was passed between Maccus, Jimmylegs and Crash. It _must_ have been, for they all instantaneously resumed what they were previously doing. It formed into a partnership of sorts.

Jimmylegs and Crash would control the ends of the whip, manipulating it in a downward curve, then, retaining that arch, arc high above Maccus's head and repeat the cycle. The first mate would time his jump so his feet wouldn't get tangled, and his upper-body wouldn't be ensnared by the cat.

An even more bizarre thing happened. They began to giggle. Quietly, at first, but louder as their 'game' continued without a single hitch. It was remarkable.

The crew gathered around, and chanted, "I saw a ship a-sailing, a-sailing on the sea, and oh but it was laden with pretty things for thee. There were comfits in the cabin and apples in the hold, the sails were made of silk and the masts were all of gold."

Maccus continued to jump flawlessly, so they began again.

"I saw a ship a-sailing, a-sailing on the sea, and-"

They froze.

Davy Jones stood, once again, before the entrance too his cabin, looming ominously above them. Without a word, he slowly took his time down the stairs, giving each man who dared look him in the eye a calm, sharp stare.

At length, he stood before them, still not uttering a sound. Even Jimmylegs's whip drooped. A dead silence took hold of them.

"You all have made a grave mistake today-uh." He intoned menacingly. Not a cough, not a breath followed. "A grave mistake indeed-uh."

Jones cocked his head to the side slightly, popped his pipe in his mouth ponderously and gave them a questioning look which lasted for at least a minute.

He finally removed his pipe and said, "You have recited the rhyme wrong. The second verse is: The four and twenty sailors that stood between the decks, were four and twenty white mice with chains about their necks. The captain was a duck with a packet on his back, and when the ship began to move the captain said 'Quack quack.'"

Jones gave his entire crew a long, cold stare, and a chilly note entered his voice. "If _ever_ I find you all doing this _ever _again-uh…you best make sure to get the words _right-uh_!" He limped back towards his cabin, an aura of finality about him.

They were spared…this time.

"Perhaps we best get back to work now." Koleniko suggested wisely. He was met with a chorus of "Aye,"

Shaking his head at such absurdity, the coxswain wondered if this might happen again. Chuckling to himself, he muttered, "When Jimmylegs gets an offer for a hug, is when!"

Some things just _never_ occurred in life.


End file.
